Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Eleanor

The first time I met my I-didn’t-know-it-at-the-time-but-she-was-my-future-mother-in-law,
mother in law, I had a mad head of curly hair which I hated.It was torturous getting my hair brushed
every morning.I absolutely hated it and
insisted the first chance I got; it was all going to be chopped off.Eleanor was a hairdresser and I couldn’t
believe my luck when I found myself sitting on a chair in her kitchen at
approximately six years of age.It was
looking very likely indeed that I was about to be shorn.And shorn I was.Funnily enough the curls never came
back.In their place I got thick, straight
hair that likes to frizz unnaturally in the damp weather.How and ever, I was delighted with
myself.No more rows in the morning with
my mother and her hairbrush.Because we
lived just down the road from Eleanor, my mother and grandmother were regular
clients.I say regular because my mother
is blessed, although she says cursed, with a head of hair that doesn’t get six
weeks out of a trim, and for years my sisters and I were bombarded with stories
about “The Dooley’s” and what they did and didn’t do.Straight away we didn’t like them.They sounded like right lick arses.The Dooley’s made their beds every morning.The Dooley’s had chores which they did every
day without complaining.The Dooley’s
got perfect marks in their tests in school.In fact, the only reason The Dooley’s lost marks was because they didn’t
dot their i’s and cross their t’s.The
Dooley’s gave up sweets for all of Lent
and didn’t give out about it!!!!!What The Dooley’s didn’t do, wasn’t worth
mentioning.We felt sorry for them.It sounded like their mammy was very, very
cross. To this day one of my smart arse sisters refers to them as the Walton’s
and us as The Dingles.I met Eleanor lots of times after that; at the
usual First Holy Communions and Confirmations as both families had kids of the
same age.And yes, I was scared of her.I was slightly older the next time I met
Eleanor.She was beating the crap out of
a lump of steak with one of those wooden meat hammers and I had just started
going out with her son, the now Mister Husband.In my ignorance I had no idea she was
tenderising a piece of meat. I thought she was just having a bad day.Like I said I was still scared of her.Childhood fears are hard to erase.This was to be the first of many times I saw
her man handling a side of animal.Her
culinary skills were second to none. The first time I was invited to Sunday
dinner with the Dooley family, I almost had a cow man.There was a strong and lively rumour amongst
our crowd that the Dooley family used silver service on Sundays and dress was more
formal than casual.Apparently they also
drank wine.Beef Wellington was on the menu; something I
had never even heard of, let alone tasted. (There was no silver service, dress was
casual, dinner was delicious and the craic was mighty!) Over the next few
years, I was without doubt firmly integrated into the Dooley circle.Their home had an open door policy and it
didn’t matter who showed up, there was always room at the inn for the night and
at the table for dinner. There were even one or two small little parties held
when the cats were away but ssshhhh don’t tell anyone!And when the cats were there, I have strong
and abiding memories of blow up beds scattered on every floor surface available
and inert bodies on couches and chairs.The
younger ones weren’t the only ones dancing in the sitting room at the Dooley
parties; Eleanor had a habit of grabbing the partners of her daughters and
hauling them onto the floor for an Elvis jive.Those were the good memories.Some fantastic memories are when Mister Nearly Husband and I came home
early that Friday night in December with The Ring. Eleanor and Michael were married after a six
month courtship and Mister Husband would have preferred the same. But Eleanor
got a stubborn and cautious daughter-in-law with me and it was five years to
the day later, when she saw me walk down the aisle to join her son in
matrimony.Nothing was ever said, but
I’m sure she was counting the days till she would become a grandmother.Again, I made her, everyone, wait.Mister Husband and I were waiting in the
kitchen as his parents came home from a day out.We handed her a trinket that read “World’s
Greatest Grandma” and waited for realisation to dawn.The next time she hugged me that hard was
when I was on my hospital bed, hours after giving birth to her grandson,
indeed, her first grandchild.Tears
streaming down her face; she had no words. The next few years are a bit of a blur as I
was so busy with the babies that followed but I always remember the gatherings
in the Dooley house for special celebrations.It didn’t matter how big or how small the occasion, there was always a
homemade cake or two to mark it.Eleanor
never allowed one to pass.Then Eleanor
got sick.At first it was a shoulder
problem and she underwent surgery to correct this.She lost her voice then and after undergoing
further tests, spots were found on her lungs.Eleanor had cancer.It was a long
and difficult year; for each step forward, there seemed to be two steps
back.The last time I saw Eleanor it was
when she came to our house for a small barbeque.It was nothing like the bashes she and
Michael used to host but it was lovely.I am so glad the last memory I have of her is in my back garden, smiling
and laughing with our kids, her grandsons, running around.Eleanor
died on Saturday 18th August 2012. Again,
her house was opened to family and friends alike and they came in their droves
to say goodbye.She is gone yet she is
everywhere.She will never be forgotten.